


One Good Thing

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, F/M, Fluff, Hunting, Implied threat of sexual violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: You’re desperate for something good in life after a run of bad luck and sometimes, desperation leads to taking chances that could get you unwittingly killed.





	One Good Thing

Slamming the door shut, you stormed into your apartment, fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. You were beyond pissed - one slight incident with an asshole Alpha and Georgie was firing your ass for no reason.

“You knew this was only a trial,” you mimicked the larger set lady’s nasal voice, stomping across your lounge to the kitchen. There was one beer in the fridge; you snatched it like it was the last drink on earth, twisting the top off and tossing it toward the trash can.

It missed, clattering to the floor noisily and you growled at it.

Ignoring the mess, you threw yourself onto the couch, turning the tv on. As usual, there was absolutely nothing to watch, so you turned your attention to job hunting. The internet provided a wealth of advertisements, most of which subtly hinted that Omegas were not welcome.

You should have expected that.

Discarding your phone, you picked up the paper your neighbor had left for you on the mat, opening it to the classifieds. The small black print was hard to read and you squinted, coasting over ads for valets, love connections and chinchillas.

At the bottom of the page, a small box caught your eye and you frowned, lifting the paper. 

“Ladies wanted for office-based administration. Earnings up to $500 a week.” You sat up, looking at the address on the ad before grabbing your phone and googling it. The address was for a smart looking building downtown, one of the new office blocks you’d spotted on your morning commute.

There wasn’t a phone number but below the address, it listed 8am to 6pm as the opening hours. Tearing the page out of the paper, you folded it up and slipped it into your purse, setting an alarm on your phone for tomorrow morning.

“One door closes,” you got up, heading for the shower, “and another opens.”

*****

The building was more imposing than Google maps made it look. Silver steel and glass stretched at least forty floors into the sky, high enough that you had to squint to look at the top. The only thing indicating the address was a solid gold number above the revolving door, a thick-rimmed “362”. 

Taking a breath, you crossed the street, avoiding a large black car that turned the corner unexpectedly. You cursed, hurrying over the tarmac toward the building, slipping in through the revolving door.

Inside seemed rather plain in comparison to the outside; there was a single desk a few feet from the elevator and you walked forward hesitantly, your low heels clicking on the tiled floor. A woman sat at the desk, her black hair pinned back behind her head professionally, her navy blue suit giving her an aura of authority.

She noticed you after a few seconds, looking up with a stern expression that melted into a smile. “Hello? Can I help you?”

“Hi,” you grinned nervously, feeling the tension in your jaw. “I, er -” Pausing, you fumbled in your bag, producing the ad. The woman looked at it, frowning for a second. “The advert said you were hiring?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her smile returning. “Yes. Fourteenth floor. I’ll let them know you’re on your way up.”

“You don’t need my name or anything?” you asked, puzzled.

“No, no, they’ll take all that when you get up there.” She wasn’t even looking at you now, her attention on the phone as she grabbed it. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll do great.” You gave it another second before turning on your heel and heading for the elevator.

The music inside was infuriating and you tapped your foot, chewing the inside of your cheek as the floors counted up slowly. When it reached the fourteenth floor, you shook yourself, trying to rid yourself of the building anxiety.

There wasn’t much to look at when you stepped out onto the fourteenth floor. The elevator doors slid shut again behind you and you jumped at the sudden sound, pressing a hand to your heart. Surveying your surroundings, you walked across the large foyer, wondering why half the windows were boarded up.

A man emerged from an office, a clipboard in hand. He looked smart enough but the lack of anyone else around was making your nerves worsen by the minute. Something about this didn’t smell right. “Hello?” you chanced, getting the man’s attention. His head snapped up before he smiled, relaxing instantly. “Hi. The lady on reception sent me up.”

He grinned. “Hey! You must be here about the job, right?” His voice was too loud and you cringed, scenting Alpha on him and something else that smelled artificial. “If you wanna take a seat over there,” he gestured to a bench by one of the boarded windows. “Don’t mind the mess, we’re having new windows installed - pigeon damage.”

“Oh,” you nodded, a little confused by the statement. “Just… over here?”

“Yeah,” his grin widened, “we’ll be right with you.”

Moving toward the seat, you lowered yourself, clutching your purse in your lap. The man disappeared into another office and through the opaque window, you could see other figures.

It was too quiet. This was a stupid idea. Who the hell responds to an ad in a paper these days?

They could be gangbangers. Traffickers.

The fright of what could possibly happen had you on your feet and rushing to the elevator which had already hit the ground floor again. You slammed your palm into the button, looking over your shoulder to see the figures in the office.

_ 2… 3… 4… _

“Come on, come on.” You pressed the button again, tears stinging your eyes. 

_ 7… 8… 9… _

The door to the office opened and you turned, smelling more than the one Alpha now. Three men emerged from the office, the suited guy not among them. “I’m… I’m sorry, I realized I forgot…” They didn’t seem interested in your excuses. “Please, I don’t have any money or -”

“Shut up,” the biggest of the three growled.

You felt like you might piss yourself with fright. The elevator door was still stubbornly shut behind you and you choked back a sob, shaking your head.

_ 13… _

“Please,” you tried again, trying to breathe through your nose. Their scents were vile, thick and clogging your lungs.

The elevator dinged and you stumbled back as the doors opened, right into two Alphas who instantly grabbed you.

You were absolutely  _ fucked _ .

“Shit,” one of the first three Alphas growled, the other two turning to run.

“Sam!” The smaller of the two in the elevator had hold of you, pulling you back against the wall. You shrieked, noticing the guns for the first time as the larger one exited the small space. “Stay here,” your captor ordered and you nodded in fright, intending on pressing the ground floor button as stood as they were out.

Both men ran off, guns drawn, and you decided it was definitely a gangbanger thing. Your head was swimming with the scent of Alpha; the newer arrivals didn’t have the thick rank smell of the first three. The one who’d touched you… you could still feel the burn of his skin on your forearm, like he’d branded you.

Gunshots made you jump and you lurched yourself forward, slamming your hand into the button for the ground floor. You were openly sobbing now as the doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. It started to descend and you clung to the wall, eyes fixed on the dropping numbers.

The elevator reached the ground floor and you stumbled out, losing a shoe on the way. You could barely see for tears, not noticing the blood until you slipped on it. Landing face down, you lifted your head, screaming when you saw the corpse of the receptionist, a neat bullet-hole through her forehead.

Somewhere, a door slammed open - you attempted to get up, sliding in the bodily fluids as you tried to escape. You’d almost made it to the door when a weight hit you from behind, sending you back down with a screech of pain.

“Get off!” you screamed, struggling against your attacker. Flinging your fists wildly, you managed to get up but your assailant was quicker, grabbing you around the throat and holding you tightly with your back to his chest.

There was a knife in his hand.

Another slam and your eyes were drawn to the fire escape in the shadows as the two men from the elevator hurried in, their guns raised. Your captor tightened his hold, making your head feel like it was going to explode with pressure. You couldn’t breathe and grabbing at his arm did nothing.

“Back off!” he snarled, spittle spraying across your cheek. “I’ll kill her!”

The two men slowed to a halt, their guns trained on you and the man holding you hostage. “Kill her and you’re dead,” the taller of the two drawled, lifting his chin. “Let her go.”

Your attacker’s hand shook as he held the knife way too close to your eye. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch from your mouth and your oxygen-deprived brain started to consider a really stupid plan. Stupider than the idea to answer a job advert in a rag of a newspaper.

“You let me walk outta here,” the man ordered. His breath was almost as rank as his natural odor, to the point you were kinda grateful you couldn’t breathe. The knife shook in his hold, pressing into your cheek, slicing the skin and making you cry out.

You couldn’t see a way out of this that didn’t end with you dead. Which only made you bolder. Possibly dumber.

Lurching forward with every ounce of strength you had, you sank your teeth into the man’s thumb, tasting blood. He yelled and you felt a thud on the back of your head, forcing you to release the flesh you’d latched onto. A second later, there was a gunshot but you were already meeting the floor.

Huge booted feet were coming toward you as your cheek smeared blood across the tiles, adding to the mess. You looked up, suddenly scenting bourbon just as darkness swamped your vision and you passed out.

*****

The blanket wrapped around you was definitely yours. And the wall you were staring at was the same wall you’d stared at every morning for the last three years, the pasty brown wallpaper reminding you yet again that you needed to decorate.

But there was a mixture of scents in the apartment that didn’t belong to you and left you frozen in your bed. Whoever had brought you home was still there, lurking beyond the bedroom door.

It was dark outside, indicating that you’d been unconscious for a while and since you’d woken up, you’d been replaying the incident in your head over and over. Nothing made sense. Well, the human-trafficking-possibly-gangbangers made sense, because you were stupid and desperate enough to answer a frickin’ add that was clearly a honeytrap of sorts.

Criminals preyed on the weak and you really couldn’t feel any weaker at that point.

Finally, you dragged yourself up, letting the sheets fall down. You were wearing the tank top and pants you’d had on earlier - your jacket was folded nicely over the back of the chair by your dresser, your purse on the seat below it.

Why the hell had they brought you back here?

Locating your pepper spray, you slipped it into the waistband of your pants, moving toward the half-open door. Your bedroom opened up right into the lounge and from the door, you could see the two huge Alphas sitting on your tiny couch. The larger one with the long hair was asleep, his head leaned back against the cushions. The other was smaller, but not by much, one arm slung over the couch as he played on his phone.

“Erm -”

It only took the one syllable to make his head jerk up. You hovered in the doorway, rubbing your hand over your opposite arm, trying not to make eye contact.

“Sam,” the man grunted, slapping his snoozing companion. “She’s awake.”

The larger Alpha sat upright, blinking sleepily as he looked around. “Oh. Hey.”

Both of them stood, their large frames seemingly too big for your tiny lounge, and you stepped back, bringing your hand around to grab your pepper spray. “Wh-what do you want?”

They shared a look, frowning at you. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay. After, you know… what happened?”

Your fingers brushed the small metal canister tucked into your waistband but you hesitated, not picking up any hint of a threat from them. Neither of them smelled unpleasant, their scents were thick and rich but you couldn’t separate them.

“What did happen?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

The men shifted and Sam looked at his unnamed friend. “Maybe you should sit down,” the unnamed one gestured to your couch and its squashed cushions. You swallowed, glancing between them, uncertain about getting closer.

“I’m… I’m good.”

“Dean,” the bigger Alpha muttered, giving you a nervous look. “Maybe we should back off a little… we’re in  _ her _ space right now.”

_ Dean _ . You rolled his name around your head, liking the sound of it. He looked like a  _ Dean _ , somehow.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean mumbled, not taking his eyes off you. He stepped back and Sam ducked into the kitchen. “Why don’t you make some coffee?” he suggested, giving you enough room to step around the front of the couch.

“Cupboard to the left of the fridge,” you mumbled, ducking your head. 

The coffee maker turned on; you clasped your hands in front of you, unable to relax enough to lean back into the cushions. Dean walked around, taking a seat on the little stool you kept by your little television.

“So,” he started, shifting uncomfortably, “this morning…”

“Are you guys cops?” you blurted out, interrupting him. For a second, his lips parted and you thought he might lie to you - then he shook his head.

“No,” Dean admitted. “We’re hunters. Those men that had you earlier… they weren’t men.”

You almost didn’t want to ask but you had to. “What were they?”

“Skinwalkers.” Sam provided, walking in with a tray holding three mugs and the coffee pot. “They were recruiting.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out the same piece of newspaper you’d had in your purse. “With this.” He held it out but you didn’t take it, feeling even more idiotic than you had before.

“I… I thought it was for a job,” you confessed, trying not to look at them.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered darkly. “So did the thirteen women they took before you.” You blinked, eyes wide at the high body count. “We need to know what happened before you ran outta there. What you heard. One of the assholes got away.”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “Nothing. I got there and the woman -” Her dead face swam to the surface of your memory. “She told me to go the fourteenth floor. I got up there and a guy in a suit… it… it seemed weird and I freaked out and I was about to leave when -” Gesturing lamely to them, you snatched your hand back when you saw how much you were shaking.

Sam looked at Dean, sighing. “Back to square one.”

“It’s not likely he’ll find you,” Dean muttered, getting to his feet and pulling a card from his pocket. “That’s my number. If you think of anything or see anything… even if you think it’s really stupid, call me.”

Managing a nod, you glanced at the coffee. “You don’t -”

“No,” he cut you off, “we should get going.”

Both men were heading for the door and you stood up, wondering if you should stop them, thank them, anything. But your body froze and your mouth wouldn’t work.

The door closed behind them.

You sank back into the sofa, sighing heavily, drawing your legs up to your chest.

The cushions smelled of leather.

*****

Your apartment didn’t feel safe, even with the brand new dead bolt across the door. It had been two days since the incident and you hadn’t so much as managed an hour of uninterrupted sleep. You were absolutely exhausted.

Dean’s number sat wedged between the fake peach you’d gotten as a housewarming gift from the batty old lady on the third floor and the banana that was probably a few days past its best. You’d picked it up and put it down a few hundred times already.

Sitting down on the couch, you opened your laptop, scowling when it took ages to load. The job-hunting wasn’t going very well - your resume was always met with a ‘ _ thank you, but _ ’ and you were reaching the edge of desperation again.

A knock at the door made you jump and you sighed, hoping it wasn’t the landlord coming for the rent. Getting to your feet, you moved to the door, looking through the peephole, remaining quiet in case it was the landlord.

Dean stared at you from the other side of the door and you picked up his scent, finally able to separate it from the other Alpha that had been with him.

Leather and sandalwood mixed together with a hint of bourbon, rich and thick, filling your head and making you waiver a little, hands against the door.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t remember telling him your name but you supposed he’d checked your ID when they’d brought you home.

“It’s Dean. From… from the other day. I just wanted to check in on you.” Your hand hovered over the lock, wondering if you should let him in. They hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information before they’d left. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Sliding the lock across, you opened the door, looking up at the Alpha. “Sorry. Thought you might be the landlord.”

He tilted his head to the side before stepping in and you closed the door behind him. “You hide from your landlord?”

“I’m a couple months behind on the rent,” you confessed, wringing your hands. “It’s been hard to find work… people don’t like hiring Omegas.” Dean’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I’m okay, though. You didn’t have to come all the way here to -”

“We got him,” he said quickly. You froze. “The skinwalker. We found him last night.” What were you supposed to say to that? Whatever that thing had been, whatever Dean  _ said _ he was, he’d looked and smelled human. And he was announcing that he’d murdered it?

“What does that mean?” you whispered, shaking your head.

He shrugged. “You’re safe.”

“You… you killed him?”

“It wasn’t a him,” Dean replied, his jaw clenching. “Walks like a duck, talks like a duck, ain’t a duck. Skinwalkers are…” He trailed off, scrubbing one hand over his face. “They were recruiting ladies to breed,” he said abruptly and your blood ran cold. “You were a walking jackpot to them.”

“Breed?” You repeated the word like it burned your tongue.

He had really big hands.

It was an odd thing to notice at that precise moment but you suddenly couldn’t take your eyes off of them. “Y/N? You okay?”

One of his big hands was on your bare shoulder where your sweater had slipped down. His palm was warm against your skin and you shuddered, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “I’m… er… I’m good,” you managed, stepping back.

“You don’t look good,” he commented.

“You killed someone.” It came out a little more blunt than you’d wanted but it was out there now and you needed to know everything. “You killed that guy who attacked me. You… you killed the others. And you say you’re not a cop. What are you, special agents? C.I.A?”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “No.”

“Then what? Because the only word I’m coming up with…” You swallowed, stepping back further. “You told me they were monsters. But that’s just… I don’t know you. You could be anyone. For all I know, you’re playing some sick game and… and…” Your chest was heaving, the hysterics setting in. Dean held up his hands, backing away.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he promised. “I’ll tell you everything, if you really wanna know.”

Your shoulders felt heavy but you nodded anyway. “I do.”

“This could take a while,” he said, “you wanna put some coffee on?”

*****

Every answer he gave you threw up two more questions and you’d shifted from coffee to beer by the time he’d reached the end of his ridiculous and horrifying tale. It all sounded too far fetched, like the plot of some television show you might have watched when you were younger.

“And that’s it,” Dean finished, leaning back into the cushions on the couch. He looked ridiculous, his oversized frame spread out, long legs tucked underneath the coffee table. You stared at him, processing it all and failing spectacularly to come up with anything to say. “Yeah, that’s the usual reaction.” He sat forward, chuckling. “Well, actually, the usual reaction is screaming and a padded cell but hey… I’ll take this as a positive.”

“I think I need another beer,” you murmured, getting to your feet. “You want one?”

“Got anything stronger?”

“Maybe.”

In truth, you weren’t sure. Your cupboards were a mixture of crap you’d never eat and crap you couldn’t stop eating. Climbing up onto the counter, you searched through the top cupboard, finding a half-bottle of Glenfiddich that you didn’t even remember buying.

“How about this?” you called, turning to see Dean right behind you. Shrieking in surprise, you toppled backward - he caught you and the bottle, smirking as you flung your arms around his neck. “Nice catch.”

“Good reflexes,” he rumbled, his deep voice vibrating against your shoulder.

Part of you wanted to jump out of his hold and the other part wanted to kiss him, which was a strange impulse, even for you. The moment stretched on into the realms of awkwardness and Dean gave you a lopsided grin.

“You wanna get down?”

Your cheeks heated up and you scrambled from his arms - he thankfully ignored your flustered expression, inspecting the bottle of whiskey.

“This is a good brand,” he muttered, looking up at you. “Got a couple glasses?”

“Sure,” you mumbled, turning away from him to reach into the cupboard again. The tumblers were old, one of them had a crack in the base, but that didn’t seem to bother Dean. He poured out two generous helpings of the Glenfiddich, handing one glass to you.

“Cheers,” he toasted, clinking his glass against yours before throwing the whole lot back in one go. You stared at the amber liquid - you weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination but it had been a rough ass week.

You tossed it back, making a bleh face at the taste before deciding a beer chaser would be perfect. “You want one?” Dean was already back at the bottle of whiskey. “I’ll take that as a no,” you chuckled, reaching into the fridge.

Wandering back into the living room, you sank back into the couch - Dean resumed his spot beside you and you tried not to pay attention to the way his thigh pressed against yours. The alcohol was already making your head fuzzy, enhancing the ever-so-inappropriate arousal in your belly.

“So… no Omega?” you chanced and Dean’s head snapped up.

“What?” He blinked, sipping the whiskey this time. “No. No Omega. Just me and Sam.”

“That’s unusual. Two Alphas living so close together.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Sam’s not an Alpha.”

That surprised you. You’d been convinced both of them were Alpha. Sam’s scent wasn’t anything like a Beta normally smelled. “Oh. I thought -”

“Easy mistake. He’s pretty overgrown.” You giggled when he smirked at you. “I guess, growing up so close… hell, even I can’t tell our scents apart if we’re in the same room or back at the bunker.” He laughed under his breath. “I can see how you’d think he was Alpha too.”

Swigging your beer, you became acutely aware of his eyes on your throat.

“My turn,” he hummed. “No Alpha?”

You shrugged. “No. Just me.”

“Not even a cat?”

“Do you see room for an animal in here?” you pointed out, making him chuckle again. “Never met the right person.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Person?”

“Well, you know, genetic attraction isn’t always based on gender. Female Alphas are a thing.”

“You ever met one?”

“Not the point.”

“That’s a no,” he teased, drawing his knees up so his feet weren’t underneath the coffee table anymore. “So, you’ve never…” The conversation was teetering on dangerous territory. Dean didn’t seem drunk but the way he was looking at you lit a fire that seemed to start in your toes and suffuse through your whole body.

“I’ve dated,” you mumbled. “Just… not for a long time.”

God, you could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes were a shade darker, and his bottom lip shone with the slick of whiskey. It would only take a slight lean to taste it. Dean’s tongue darted out, enticingly pink and the moan that slipped from your lips was completely unintentional.

“How long?”

You sighed, tipping your head back to lean it on the cushions. “Long enough that I don’t remember.”

Dean shifted and a split second later, his hand slipped over your thigh, the other putting his half-finished drink down. “How drunk are you right now?”

Rolling your head to the side, you gave him what you hoped was a sultry look and not some sort of twisted grimace. “Drunk enough to agree, not drunk enough that it would be taking advantage.” He smiled, his hand moving a little higher on your leg, fingers dancing close to your core.

Could he feel how hot you were underneath the yoga pants?

“You smell really good,” he groaned, leaning in to cup your cheek. The kiss happened before you’d completely processed it and for a second, you remained frozen with your eyes open. His fingers were pressing against the seam of your pants now, right over your clit, moving so gently you could barely separate it from the shuddering of your entire body.

Discarding your beer, you melted into him, fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, letting him drag you closer until you were practically in his lap. “Is this a good idea?”

“Depends,” Dean replied, his hands wrapping around your hips, pulling the juncture of your thighs flush with his crotch. Underneath the denim of his pants, his cock was hard and throbbing, pressed right up against you. “Will you regret it in the morning?”

You shrugged. “That’s future me’s problem.”

He chuckled at that, kissing you again. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you literally fell into my lap.”

“I don’t usually have that effect on guys,” you admitted, sheepishly. “This is kind of a first for me.”

Dean’s smile stretched his kiss-swollen lips. “I like being a first.”

“Would I be yours? Your first… Omega?”

It sounded so stupid but the expression on his face put you at ease. He cupped your face between his big hands, pulling you in for another kiss. “Yeah,” he muttered, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’d be my first.”

You yelped in surprise when he picked you up, carrying you toward the bedroom. Clinging to his shoulders, you let him drop you on the bed, squealing when he fell on top of you, managing to kick his shoes off on the way.

Kissing a messy path down your chest, Dean’s fingers tickled your sides, making you giggle when he shoved your shirt up to nuzzle into your belly. “God, you smell so good,” he growled, holding your hips down.

“You already said that,” you laughed.

“Well, I mean it.” His fingertips rolled the elastic waistband of your yoga pants down. “But now,” he tore your pants down, eyes widening with delight when he saw you were sans panties, “now, I wanna taste you.”

Dean lowered himself between your thighs, locking his gaze on you as he spread them wider, sticking out his tongue and licking you from hole to clit, earning himself a whimper. He sucked your clit into his mouth, teasing it with the point of his tongue, stopping your hips when they started to jerk.

You whispered his name repeatedly, reaching down to slide your fingers through his hair. With a throaty growl, he pulled you further down the bed, thrusting his tongue into you and you cried out, unable to do anything but hold on.

“Fuck,” he snarled, releasing you before you’d hit your peak and you mewled pathetically, pouting at him. “I gotta feel you.” Snatching at his belt, Dean stripped his pants, jerking his chin toward your shirt. “Take that off.”

Rushing to comply, you didn’t have more than a second before he was on you again, both of you completely naked. His skin was almost burning where he touched you, the intensity of it obliterating the slight tipsy state you’d been in when it had all started.

Dean cursed again, mumbling something you could quite hear but included the word ‘ _ beautiful _ ’ and that was enough to make you blush from head to toe. He rutted against your thigh, his cock dribbling precum where it rubbed along your skin; you lifted your hips, impatient to feel him.

“How d’you want me to take you, Omega?” he grunted, hands wandering like he couldn’t decide where to touch you. “Want me fuck you like this?” A roll of his lower body dragged his thick shaft to press right against your slit and you panted, clutching at his shoulders. His lips coasted over your jaw, his stubble scratching your skin when he found your pulse. “Want me to take you like a real Alpha takes his mate?”

It was your turn to curse and Dean smirked, pulling back to flip you onto your belly and you instantly pushed up onto your knees, giving him a full display of your soaked cunt. He groaned, pressing two fingers into you, watching them disappear inside you. You clenched, gripping the sheets with clawed hands and rocking to meet his slow thrusts.

“You’re so wet,” he praised, stroking himself with his other hand. “Just begging for a thick Alpha knot, huh?”

Nodding, you fucked yourself onto his fingers when he stopped moving, eager to get whatever friction you could. Dean chuckled in amusement, withdrawing abruptly, not giving you more than a second to voice your protest before he was lining up, the thick head of his cock spearing you open.

He groaned as you took him as far as your body would allow, pulling back to try again. On the second thrust, he filled you completely, his hips slapping audibly against your ass. The feeling was overwhelming - you gasped, every muscle tensing at the sudden fullness.

Dean’s hands slid over your ass, moaning in appreciation. “Taking my dick so well, baby,” he growled, his gaze locked on where your bodies were connected. “You gonna cum for me?”

All you could manage was a nod, whimpering when he drew back a little before filling you again. The sheets felt like they were going to tear under your grasp as he started to fuck you properly, slamming into you over and over.

You fell over the edge with a drawn out cry - Dean hauled you up without waiting for you to be done, one hand around your throat as he looped his other arm around your waist. The angle pushed him deeper and you couldn’t hold on, careening headfirst into a second climax.

He didn’t stop. Your pussy ached in the most unimaginably pleasurable way, the sort of ache than made you want more and less at the same time. Both of you were sweating; you could feel his knot thickening inside you, his thrusts becoming slower as his movements were restricted.

Dean came with a throaty roar, dragging you with him as his knot locked inside you, thick ropes of cum pumping into your belly. You gasped, unable to produce more than a breathy moan, covering his hand on your stomach with your own.

Collapsing together, Dean pulled you close, neither of you speaking as you worked your way down from the high. When he was finally able to pull away, he didn’t move far, wrapping his arms around you as you turned to face him, initiating a slow, soft kiss.

“What happens now?” you asked, stroking a finger down the center of his chest. “You go back to hunting and I go back to…” What did you have to go back to, exactly? A shitty apartment that didn’t have room for a cat and no job? Eviction was next on your list of adult achievements.

Dean sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “You ever just let someone take care of you?”

You rolled the question around for a few seconds, chewing the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. “Not really.”

“Me either,” he laughed, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. No one does.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. “All I know is, I found a good thing. I’m not inclined to let it go.”

Cuddling further into him, you closed your eyes, inhaling his scent. “Me either.”


End file.
